being B4A7

so it's out. After a couple of delays and reschedulings and a lot ... a lot of anticipation. I am officially a dualite now, and I'll be getting TWO WHOLE degrees when I pass out of this brilliant place. One Master of Sciences (Honours) in Mathematics, and one Bachelor of Engineering (Honours) in Computer Science. That's what the codeword B4A7 means, in case you aren't BITSian. Well, to say the least, I am elated and jumping in joy and .... bouncy and frisky and ... all possible good things. A plethora of awesomeness is flowing through me. I feel awesome every minute. Gosh, I never felt so awesome in my life. See, I feel so awesome that I'm even getting my verbs wrong and missed a 'have' in the previous sentence.

*Yipppeee!*

On a more serious note. I pause to reflect. I came so close to not getting it, courtesy my crappy Work Shop grade. A horrendous C. Well, my A in Math saved me.

*yea*

So today I was playing computer games for a change. on *windows* not *Linux* :P

Need For Speed : Most Wanted

And I had a surge of realization. The car I was driving. The silver Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution. I had to be that. The city of Rockport ... that was what my life was, and the silver Lancer tearing through the streets at 200 kmph ... was me, surging through it. The cops behind me, were the detractors trying to hold me back, and the general cars on the road, were the obstacles I had to avoid in my ultimate pursuit.

Now that I've an A7 dual (that means a Comp Sci dual) with my B4 (thats the code for Math), most people seem to consider the B4 part useless, with entire focus on A7. Well, I don't. Then what would set me apart from a regular A7 guy? What indeed? Nothing. Does that mean the B4 part is a waste? One MSc honours degree, from an awesome institute, all wasted?

Hence hereby, I pledge to the wide world, that I shall, to the best of my abilities, do all that it takes to ensure that that doesn't happen, that the B4 gains as much importance that A7 does. Shall make regular A7 people repent the fact that they are A7 ...



and not B4A7 .... ;-)

*But no, I m not taking digs at any A7 person. I love most of them! Hell my some of best-est friends are all A7. It's just a personal stand I take today, in order to not waste the awesome MSc degree that I'll get.

Omelette

You can't make an omelette without blowing up a few planets.

Dzonghs and more

This is all set to be a pretty boring post, fueled solely by my interest in alternative history and a certain television program on the Nation Geographic Channel viz Megastructures. If you happen to have an interest in either, or you are (or going to be soon) a civil engineer and you are passionate about the subject, there is a little probability that you too might just like it.

This is set in a little landlocked country in Asia, happily nestled and nurtured by the mighty Himalayas. To its north lies the People's Republic of China, to its west, south and east ... our very own motherland, India. Yes, you got it right, it's Bhutan that I am referring to.  The Land of the Thunder Dragon (and Land of so many more things, as we later realised, during our recent ten day vacation)

First things, first : this is NOT a travelogue. I am not a good ... er ... describer of vacations, if you get what I mean. Rather, this is a write-up describing and unearthing one little-known yet glaring aspect of this sweet little country.

What I refer to are Dzonghs (To pronounce it right, you needn't make faces and look like a retard, just eliminate the D and the H and you get a simple, pronounceable word). So what are they? They are simply put, Bhutanese fortresses, each of which have a rich trailing history. Big, towering, and awe-inspiring, their prominence in Bhutan is as great today as it was a few centuries back. Which is what sets it aside from the great monuments in other countries.

A few glimpses at the pictures that follow will prove that they are remarkable architectural masterpieces, and interestingly enough, they have stood the test of time, and continue to be centres of thriving activity even today. Dzonghs as I have said before were meant to be fortresses ... military structures, which were instrumental in fending off Tibetan attacks from the north and Indian from the south. Today however, when peace reigns in this country, and military operations rarely ... er operational, Dzonghs have been converted into seats of the governance. As a result of which these medieval marvels continue to serve the country, more than what historical monuments in other countries do.

There are some nineteen Dzonghs in the whole of Bhutan, and each is unique in its shape, structure, and history. Even the sites where they stand, have a sacred history trailing behind. Many thrilling myths and legends surround each Dzongh, which contribute greatly to modern Bhutanese folklore. Each country in general has separate structures/buildings for commerce, administration, military, religious and social purposes, but Dzonghs in Bhutan, encapsulate  them all together in one place. Not surprisingly, each Dzongh, houses a huge temple or monastery which is breathtaking in its own manner. Historically, they have served all of these purposes, from being seats of governance, to garisson for the military, homes of monks, and places for social or religious celebrations. These Dzonghs are also witnessess to bitter civil wars between medieval Bhutanese lords, when Bhutan still wasn't one consolidated country. Though structurally unique, they all seem to have been built on a common architectural pattern, which are evident when one has seen a few of them. There is a tall central tower that is supposed to signify the abstract frontiers between the temporal and spiritual administration of the dual system of government. The huge courtyards and the general expansiveness that greets the eye symbolize the "openness" and broader aspect of the life, and also territorial expansion.

Well, I'll stop the wramblingz here. What follows are some pics that we clicked that'll help you to see what Dzonghs really are like.

for further information check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dzong_architecture

Life

Here on the Death Star we employ 1,179,293 people with hopes, dreams & families.

I guess you could call us the "Life" Star.

Opportunity

 
Don't think of us as a "Death" Star, think of us as an "Opportunity" Star.

Mission Statement

Here at Death Star Public Relations, our ongoing mission is to spread the word about the great things the Galactic Empire is doing for you, the people.

We're about so much more than destroying planets and ridding the galaxy of the Rebel Alliance. We're also about the things that are really important to you - job security, fair taxes, free childcare and puppy dogs.


Watch this space for regular updates, or simply follow us on Twitter for up to the minute coverage.

the mango people

I am never fashionably different. Many people may and will disagree, but the fact remains, that my unconventional takes on certain matters, are ... unconventional only due to reasons that are well grounded and justified. At least, they make sense to me. Be it loathing firms like Microsoft and Apple, being a motor head and still not liking Lamborghini, being a metal lover and still not swearing by Metallica. Being a Bengali and still not being into football. You get it, right?

so what? the skeptic interjects.

No. Nothing. Just that I suddenly remembered another of these things which falls in the same category.

It's mangoes this time.

Yeah, you saw and heard it right. Mangoes. The fruit, whose absence will probably incapacitate half of this country's population. The fruit which a considerable fraction of this nation lusts after. Swears by. And the fruit that gets on my nerves every summer in the most agonisingly irritating manner.

ducks as random stuff is thrown at him
when projectiles cease, gets up looks around for any more antagonistic gestures
rubs his blackened eye and lump on the head

Yeah, so as I was saying. It's not that I don't like mangoes. I do like them (what a lie) ... what I really don't like are the associated acts. The near religious frenzy this (insignificant) fruit arouses its users into. For as I maintain, "eat" is an understatement, considering the degree of activity a mango user engages himself in, to relish this fruit to the fullest. (After all, you have Apple users, so why not Mango users?)

So to continue. A mango's journey from the shop to the insides of a patriotic mango user, does make one heck of a tale. First, the haggling over the price. Warning the insolent hawker that if he doesn't lower the price by another rupee, he'll lose a customer (and at the same time, silently wishing that he doesn't). Finally buying it. Then walking through the market ensuring that a tiny portion of one mango sticks out over the top of the shopping bag ... letting the whole world know that there are mangoes in it. So beware. Then entering home. The squeals of joy that result when the inmates see mangoes. Emptying of bags follow. All other fruits and vegetables neglected. All eyes on mangoes. Touching, fingering, fondling, smelling ... all sorts of (shady) activities.

Then comes the preparation before eating. The peeling part. As this process goes underway, the people involved stand all around ... waiting eagerly. Saliva dripping from their mango deprived tongues like that of (rabid dogs) connoisseurs of fine taste,

Ahem ahem.

Then the eating part. That alone forms a separate story, so won't get diverted and shall proceed with that which I had in mind when I started this post.

This was one fear I had about being in Calcutta in summer. Though my mum's earnest concern whether I am eating mangoes in Pilani or not had been communicated to me thanks to advancements in cellular and long distance communication, I had chosen to be silent on that matter. But here in Cal ... it's a carnage.

All versus me. One mission. Feed the poor old, mango deprived boy from Rajasthan ... with mangoes. Mangoes. And more mangoes. I had just reached home. Had lunch and was hitting the bed. Suddenly, my ever smiling granny comes forward and hands me a bowl of ... no points for guessing .... mangoes. A (gruesome) shade of yellow and orange. Peeled and all. Not that I didn't like it at first. I do like it when they first appear. So that day, I ate like a nice boy. Careful not to drop the yellow juice on my clothes and the bed cover, and the day ended in peace.

Alas, for the other days. And no, I am not totally to blame. Consider. You wake up, and see mangoes being peeled. You have breakfast, and then someone shoves a plate of mangoes into your face (well, essentially), which you reject. Then, you are chatting with somebody and presto ... the same plate appears ... and you sourly turn it down again. Then lunch ... it gets over, and an ultimatum ... "If you do not eat this now ... " the condition remains untold. You grumpily consume it. Like amoeba consume food balls. Spoiling all the wonderful delicacies that your stomach is still digesting. After it gets over, you heave a sigh, bask in the glory of the fact that you wont be irritated again for this one day, and start a new movie.

All of a sudden. Another of those hellish bowls. Filled with mangoes. You freak out. Mum freaks out. Day goes to the dogs. You end up losing the battle, with yellow drops and stains in the wrong places and a grotesque expression on your face.

The king of fruits they call it. King it is no doubt. A monstrous tyrannical one at that. Who rules with an iron rod.

Mango. te odio.


PS: thats Spanish for Mango, I hate you.